by C J Timms
Gale had seen the reports. More people were being found drained of blood, wrung dry. Left in comas that can’t be healed. Not just in Reefside or Tideline anymore.
‘Try not to let it get you down Gale, it’s beer-o-clock.’ Titus said. ‘Rightyo boys, I figure we grab a slab, find a nice bit of beach and just kick back. Maybe grab some snags for a bbq or a roast chook.’
‘What about the rooftop bar on the Palm Tower, its meant to be a wild place to drink.’ Sterling said. ‘I mean if Gale’s buying…’
‘One drink Sterling,’ Gale said. ‘I have a compromise.’
The familiar sight of the Iron Church appeared before him. Monday’s the place was closed, but Gale slid his staff key in and unlocked the chains. He walked behind the bar, ran his hands over the taps, still as he remembered.
‘Drinks boys?’ Gale asked.
‘Beer’ Titus said.
‘Espresso martini.’ Sterling said.
Gale and Titus looked at Sterling.
‘Fine…beer,’ Sterling said, rolling his eyes. Gale poured drinks for the three of them.
‘Lets put the game on,’ Gale said and thumped the TV. The TV was an antiquated haphazard mess of cathode ray tubes and coronal augmentation. It displayed a grainy black and white image that conked in and out. In a water-filled arena, combatant's leapt from platform to platform around a giant rotating sphere, throwing a disc back and forth. Some rode wakeboards, some hang gliders and even windsurfers.
‘Ultimate Frisbee, the Stallions, great choice Gale.’ Sterling said, kicking back.
The station changed. Rugby league came on to the screen. ‘Never mind that rubbish. Rugby league is the sport of real men. A game of honour and mateship.’ Titus said.
Sterling grabbed the remote and pulled it from Titus’s grasp. ‘Its a playoff.’
Gale took a pull from his beer. To boys night, he thought.
‘Any food gale?’ Sterling asked,
‘I thought ahead.’ Titus said and pulled out 3 pies from the pockets of his flannie. Still warm from the market.
‘We have to work on our nutrition Titus.’ Sterling said. ‘We need to be at peak performance for the Monster Hunt. We’ve gotta track down a beast under timed conditions or get booted from the school. What we need to do is cut out sugar, eat a mainly vegetarian diet with just enough fish and meat for protein. No grains, no milk. Cut out all the carbs we can.’ Sterling said.
‘Right and a pie is full of meat. It's my protein loading.’ Titus said.
‘Well sort of, there's a ton of flour and sugar in most of them.’ Sterling said. ‘At least they don’t put salt in most of the pies here.’
‘Well…’ Titus said and scoffed his pie. ‘I can get a Ned Kelly with an egg in the centre.’
‘That's….better?’ Sterling said. ‘But there are still too many carbs in the pastry.’
‘Rubbish Sterlo.’ Titus said and held up the pie to the light. ‘This is a crisply baked, flaky pastry, designed at the optimal thickness to add crunch but not go soggy. See the beautiful thing about a pie, their true genius, is that they are self-contained packaging. They are transportable, they don’t need to be wrapped in waste. What I’m doing by eating pies is saving the environment.’
Sterling stared at Titus.
‘So you want yours or not?’
Gale shrugged and took one. What the hell, they’d managed to pay their debts.
‘By the way, top job paying the debt Gale.’ Titus said. ‘Rule number one ay? Rule number one.’
‘What’s rule number one anyway Titus?’
‘That Gale is the first rule I came up with. The first rule of a knight of modern chivalry. You’ll work it out.’ He said with a cheeky wink.
‘Where’d you grow up anyway?’ Gale asked.
Titus answered around mouthfuls of pie. ‘I got taken in by a Canuteian monastery around ten, at least they told me I was ten. They found me on the streets of Canu’cairns, in Wyldfell. Don’t remember much before the street. Didn’t make a very good monk either.’
‘Your mum and dad?’ Gale asked, tucking into his pie.
‘Can’t remember em.’ Titus scratched his head, his grin slipping for a moment. ‘I got these wicked tatts for free though. Do you know how expensive tattoos normally are.’
The gym doors crashed open wide. ‘Gale, my favourite employee!’ roared Ironchurch and grabbed Gale into a headlock. ‘You brought friends…or customers?’
‘Friends, Church.’ Gale said, voice muffled by Ironchurch’s bicep.
‘Ah, so they get mates rates.’ Ironchurch said, releasing Gale and pulled out a crate of ‘Ironchurch conditioner’ from behind the bar.‘Now you must be strong to have teamed up with my boy here. This though, this will give you the edge to crush your competition.’
Sterling picked it up and shook it at arms length. ‘I don’t know, is it good for the roots with all organic products?’ Ironchruch’s grin froze, and he flicked a look at Gale. Then he turned to Titus.
‘You boy, you look like a man who appreciates a bit of extra muscle.’
Titus puffed out his chest. ‘Of course, I once arm-wrestled Mick Fanning at the Byron Beach Hotel and won.’
Titus downed the Ironchurch conditioner and belched his appreciation. Ironchurch grinned and pulled out his receipt book.
‘I’ve got plenty of product at the Lighthouse, Church, we’re just here for a drink.’ Gale said.
Ironchurch sighed and put his receipt book away. He slapped a hand on Gale’s back. ‘Looks like a good group of mates Gale, have you finished my book yet? You must get to end’.
‘Not yet Church’, Gale said. He’d been trying to polish off bits and pieces during stolen minutes at the end of the day. With late-night pager call outs and Blush’s private dawn lessons though it had fallen by the wayside. Blush’s lessons were working though. He was getting stronger, his Deep magic was more deadly, he got less shortness of breath every day. He could get strong enough to fight the Rust Knight. If he had the time.
‘Here, boys have a copy.’ Ironchuch pushed ‘Lifting Great Weight’ to each of them. ‘Well enjoy your drinks, I’m proud of you Gale, I know you’ll do the world some good.’
They watched the game in peace, letting some of the exhaustion of the last few weeks wash away. Titus tried to initiate drinking games.
‘Come on Sterl-o don’t be a soft-cock.’
‘Titus its hot coffee…’ Sterling said.
‘Here’s to Sterlo he’s true blue, he’s a pisspot through and through, he’s a bastard, so they say, tried to go heaven, but he went the other way and went down! Down! Down!’ Titus chanted.
Sterling sipped at his piping hot espresso and then put it to the side. Titus swapped it out for a VB with his maddening grin.
‘How about your family Sterlo - I ain’t got any, but you must be mad close with your family.’
‘Not really,’ Sterling said, ‘I’m what you might call a black sheep.’
‘Bugger that, life’s to short to be a sheep, blaze your own path. Well, except for those sheep from ‘Babe pig in the city’, they had their shit sorted.’ Titus farted. ‘Ah beer, tis good for the digestion.’
Sterling looked traumatised, then he grinned wide. ‘Well mate, you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends.’ Sterling raised a cup. ‘To family, frakked if I know what to do with em.’
‘To mates,’ Gale said.
‘To the boys!’ Titus said.
Gale, Sterling and Titus clinked their beers. Gale’s shoulders softened, the tension in his forehead fading. Life was good, not perfect, but good. After all, perfection was so dull. Gale downed the last of his drink.
‘So Titus, you never told us. What's rule number one?’ Gale said.
Titus didn’t answer, staring instead at his drink.
‘What's up, mate?’ Gale asked.
‘My beer, I mean I’ve heard of red ales but…’ Titus held up his beer. It had turned blood red.
The windows banged open, and the red leaves of autumn swirled inside. A soft ethereal voice called to Gale. ‘Sing sweet my love, sing sweet my love, whenever life seems bleak, you’ll catch the flies with honeyed voice, down in the Devils Reef.’
Titus and Sterling seemed oblivious. A metallic taste spiked in his mouth. His blood seemed to boil, and anger swirled in his gut. He felt a terrible hunger.
Gale summoned his harpoon. ‘On your guard boys.’
The doors to the bar slammed open. A red armoured knight staggered in, with each footstep their boots crunched into the wooden floor. They wore heavy armour more like shell then metal. A grim visage of a sharks maw rose on their helmet. The room stank of iron and salt.
The Blood Knight lurched towards them, seeming unsteady on their feet. ‘Where…is…Ironchurch…’
‘None of your business.’ Gale said, his voice gave out a high pitched note at the end. Titus took a long pull from his beer and finished it. Sterling sipped his espresso and rolled his shoulders, his hand reaching for where his golden blade had been.
It wasn’t good to look scared in front of your mates.
‘We…have…business…’ Hissed the knight.
‘You’re interrupting boys night.’ Titus stood up, Canuteian tattoos glowing softly.
‘He…owes me.’ The knight hissed, and a trident ripped into reality in its hands. Deep red blood splattered onto the floor, the trident slowly dripped blood from its three points.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The Blood Knight held up a gauntleted hand, and a small black leech slunk out of the gaps in its armour, crawling into its palm. The knight delicately placed the leech onto the trident where it fixed on. The leech swelled in size, growing bloated and bulbous.
‘I…hunger…’
‘I’ve got a pie if you want one?’ Titus said, holding up a pie he heated with Script, then he narrowed his eyes. ‘Otherwise, piss off, this is boys night, well…hang on…are you a lad or a girl anyway?’
The Blood Knight turned its helmet in Titus’s direction.
‘That reward money Gale, sure would fix a lot of our rent problems.’ Sterling whispered.
Gale nodded. The reward money would fix their problems. More than that, this thing wanted Ironchurch. He had to stop it. Three on one, they could take it.
Couldn’t they?
‘Who…is…Ironchurch…to you?’ The knight said. ‘Is…he…your…blood?’
‘Better,’ Gale said. ‘He’s a boss who pays overtime.’
Gale surged Script into his legs and kicked the table forwards. The table flipped end over end towards the Blood Knight who smacked it with a gauntleted fist. The table broke into splinters. Titus went left, and Sterling went right. Titus threw the steaming hot pie at the Blood Knight. Sterling threw his hot cup of black coffee. The Blood Knight’s sword tore into them by reflex, the piping hot contents flew out and covered the Blood Knights helmet, hot coffee and pie filling spilt through the visor.
The Blood Knight lurched, and a hand went to its visor. Sterling slid in behind it, kicking at its legs. Titus came in from the side and a fist glowing with white light hammered into the Blood Knight. The armour dented inwards, and the Blood knight was hurled into the wall.
Gale jumped off a table into the air bringing the harpoon down. The Blood Knight caught it and kicked Gale away. Gale flew back, hit the bar, and he felt ribs break. His chest screamed as all the wind was knocked from him. Gritting his teeth, he forced deep breaths. He pushed himself up with the harpoon.
The Blood Knight threw a leech at Sterling. It bit into Sterling’s arm, and he went pale, collapsing to the floor. The Blood Knight charged at Titus and lanced out with the trident. Titus caught the trident in one hand, his palm glowing white-hot, his tattoos lighting up.
‘Gale, its a duel, you know I bloody love a duel!’ Titus roared. ‘Rule 37, a man accepts all challenges on his honour.’
‘Pin them, Titus.’ Gale yelled. ‘That’s rent for the semester.’
Gale channelled Deep Script and flanked the Blood Knight. He stabbed forward with his harpoon. The Blood Knight screamed, banished their trident and grabbed Titus and Gale with its gauntleted hands.
Gale grappled with the Blood Knight hooking one hand on the back of red shell armour and sealing a tiny disc onto it.
Done, he thought.
The Blood Knight hurled him through the wall. The corrugated metal splintered apart. Gale burst through into the gym, weights and dumbells went flying. Gale and Titus struggled to rise as the Blood Knight came towards them. Something bit down on Gale’s neck, and he felt his body grow weak. Blood red aura exploded around him. Unable to move his head, his eyes flicked down and saw a leech growing fat. The Knight stepped in to finish him.
Sterling rose, he shook off the blood-red aura and ripped the leech from him. Blood flowed freely from the wound. Sterling charged and tried to tackle the Blood Knight.
The Blood Knight knocked Sterling into a rack of barbells and dumbells. Sterling was buried under the gym equipment.
‘You…resist…the leeches. How…curious…’
The Blood Knight strode towards Gale again raising the trident high. Gale tried to resist the leeches paralysis like Sterling had, but he found nothing.
A dumbbell the size of a kitchen stove slammed into the Blood Knight. The Blood Knight was tossed like a rag doll into the wall.
‘Rack your weights back after use, it's on the wall.’ Ironchurch said with a grin.
The Blood Knight shoved the dumbbells aside and pushed itself back to standing. Its armour was bent, but now it just looked pissed off. Ironchurch picked up barbells from the gym floor and hurled them like frisbees. The Blood Knight knocked them from the air but was pushed back.
Running out of smaller equipment, Ironchurch picked up a massive barbell, thick as his thigh, seven-foot-long. He nodded at Titus. ‘You look after Gale Titus, LIAM!’ he bellowed.
The Scaled bouncer stepped out of a side room.
‘Throw this one out.’
‘You do it, I’m not on the clock till five-thirty.’ Liam said, drawing a sword.
‘Fine I’ll pay over time. But no tea break.’
Liam grinned back at Ironchurch and they both advanced on the Blood Knight.
‘You…defend…him…who…are…they…to..you? Are…they…family?’
Ironchurch grinned. ‘Better, he’s an employee who works overtime.’
The Blood Knight tilted its head then spat to the side. ‘There is salt in blood, there is iron in blood.’
Titus punched the leech off Gale’s neck and stamped on it. Through the Vibe, something flashed from the Blood Knight. A red finned wraith shot through Ironchurch, ripping Script from him.
Then Ironchurch went pale. The Blood Knight leapt forwards and bit into Ironchurch’s neck. Red curse marks erupted from the bite, paralyzing Ironchurch. The Blood Knight threw him away like a rag doll.
The Blood Knight turned as Liam brought his sword down. Liam’s scales writhed over his body. Like they were alive. The Blood Knight sniffed the air.
‘Dredger.’ The Blood Knight growled.
The roar of sirens came from outside. Someone had called the guard. The Blood Knight hissed, then exploded in a crimson mist, darting away. As the crimson mist cleared, Gale stumbled over to Ironchurch. Trapped beneath a pile of barbells, Ironchurch’s chest struggled to rise, one crushing down on his windpipe. The bite on his neck glowed red with foul sigils. Crushed beneath a mountain of barbells, Ironchurch turned his head to Gale.
‘Gale can you spot me.’
Then he passed out.
Gale - Blood cursed
Ironchurch lay motionless on his bed, eyes closed, arms by his side. Pulsating red marks on his neck stood out on ghostly white skin. The bite mark writhed with red sigils that extended hooked barbs into him. Gale waited in the corner, hoping to see that rogueish grin, the madcap energy or a bellow to get back to work.
‘Nasty stuff, just like the others.’
‘What does it mean?’ Liam asked
The healer stroked his chin. ‘It’s right nasty is blood magic. Rare as fracking hens teeth too. That said, if they survive the first hour of the bite, then they seem to hang on. I’ve done what I can to…contain it. Until we work something else out, keep him in the stones.’
‘What's it doing to him?’ Liam asked.
The healer scratched his chin. ‘Ain’t no textbook answer to give you, this is unchartered waters. My best guess though…it’s feeding.’
‘The Deep hungers,’ Liam muttered. The healer packed away his tools and left. The fracturesmiths remained in the corner.
‘I will make some tea.’ Liam said and placed a hand on Gale’s shoulder.
Gale turned to the two in the corner. ‘May I have a moment? I will meet you downstairs.’ The fracturesmiths nodded ever so slowly and left.
Gale watched the crimson markings from beyond the stone circle. They shifted and flowed, like water, or like blood. Like a circulatory system. Something bone-white poked out of the top of Ironchurch’s shirt collar, dislodged by the healer. Gale stepped in closer to the bed, past the stones. Gale reached down to find two pieces of bone-white coral, like a set of dog tags, with Ironchurch’s name. It was near identical to the set he’d seen on the burnt-out refugee in Tideline.
Gale relaxed his focus and sensed the Vibe. The coral was just dead structure, the life stripped from it, any organisms which had once dwelt on it long gone. There was a hint though, a gap, where something had been but was no longer. Gale reached out with his Script to the absence. A flicker of blue smoke rolled off the coral. Gale wrenched his hand back and dropped the coral back to Ironchurch’s chest.